Some identities eventually blend into the image we have of a city. The London Underground symbol designed by Edward Johnston is a good example. Its circle crossed by a bar appears across stations, maps, and signs, becoming part of the London landscape. For more than a century, it has served as a wayfinding tool and, at the same time, as one of the city’s most recognizable symbols.
It’s hard to separate that visual identity from the trip itself. We see it when we arrive, it accompanies us as we move around the city, and it eventually comes home with us on a magnet, keychain, or some other souvenir that felt absolutely essential at the time.
That’s what happens when a brand finds a place of its own and occupies it consistently. Brand positioning stops living inside a strategy and starts becoming recognizable beyond it.
And you don’t need to know when the symbol was designed or what the typeface is called. If you recognize it when you need it, it’s already doing its job.
A product can come to represent an entire place
The relationship between a product and a destination can be built around something as specific as a box of pastries.
Pastéis de Belém began making its pastries in Lisbon in 1837, using a recipe linked to the Jerónimos Monastery. Today, visiting its bakery is part of the itinerary for countless people passing through the city.
The product is what drives its fame, of course. But the experience includes much more: arriving at the bakery, waiting in the incredibly long line, seeing its tiled interiors, and sprinkling cinnamon over a pastry that’s still warm.
The brand has turned a fairly simple purchase into a small tourist ritual. Plenty of people remember that white-and-blue box, carry it halfway across Lisbon, and end up photographing it beside the Tagus River. Free UGC with a custard filling.
Here, brand positioning has been built over time and reinforced in the same place every day. That said, the tradition would lose much of its charm if the experience felt as though it had been designed solely for tourists.
Something similar has happened with the Guggenheim in Bilbao. The museum has become so central to the city’s image that it’s difficult to think of one without the other coming to mind. It follows a logic similar to ingredient branding: a destination’s image is built from different elements, and when one of them stands out enough, it ends up appearing in almost every photo.
At that point, it doesn’t really matter whether we’re talking about a museum or a box of pastries. The only difference is whether or not it fits in your suitcase.
Visual identity works without a translator
In another country, a trip to the supermarket can become a fairly serious design test. You don’t understand a word and have to work out whether the package in front of you contains a matcha shake or matcha-scented body wash. That’s when you appreciate a well-designed label.
The shape, color, and hierarchy of information already begin to tell you what you’re looking at, even before you understand a single word. If they don’t, you’re left turning the package around several times in search of some tiny clue on the back.
Muji takes this idea pretty far. Whether you’re looking at underwear or stationery, its packaging always speaks the same language. It looks similar enough for you to recognize the brand, while changing just enough for you to understand what you’re buying.
And when you arrive with no context and no knowledge of the language, that prevents quite a bit of confusion. Because a strong visual identity is also about making things easy for people who know nothing about the brand.
Tourists spot inconsistencies quickly
Travel also puts us face-to-face with brands that promise one thing and deliver another.
Some hotels promise rest through soft lighting, crisp white sheets, and a front desk where, naturally, nobody appears to have ever argued with a printer. Then you arrive and check-in takes forty minutes.
Brand experiences are often remembered because of details like these. We might forget what the website looked like, but we’ll remember whether someone solved the problem without wasting another twenty minutes of our time—on top of the forty we already spent checking in.
Communication creates expectations before we arrive, but the physical space and service are what ultimately confirm or dismantle them.
That’s why, when a brand talks about being approachable or offering personalized service, it’s worth checking how those words translate into the actual experience. Tourists have little emotional attachment and plenty of alternatives just two blocks away.
Seeing the brand as if you had just arrived
Looking at a brand through a tourist’s eyes helps reveal how much of what seems obvious actually depends on already knowing it. From the inside, we fill in the gaps almost without noticing. We know what that odd sentence on the website is supposed to mean and why a certain process works “the way it always has.” But someone encountering the brand for the first time doesn’t have that advantage. They see it exactly as it is.
Travel puts us in that position, face-to-face with brands we don’t know yet and that have only a few minutes to make themselves understood. Maybe that’s why, after coming home from vacation, it’s worth looking at our own brand from the same distance—to see whether it speaks for itself or needs someone on the inside to translate it.
This month, besides coming home with at least one purchase that’s difficult to justify, it’s worth paying attention to that. Because sometimes the best ideas about a brand appear a few miles away from the office.






